Bad Reputation
by Lucy Hallowell
Summary: Prompted by Ashley Louise and WorldofTilt, a story about Santana at Coyote Ugly and a jealous Brittany. You know the deal, these are not my characters, they belong to Glee blah blah blah


"Marie Curie?" The bouncer says with an impeccable French accent.

Brittany smiles and says, "That's me!" The bouncer shakes his head and laughs, returns her ID, and waves her in. Brittany can feel the inside of the bar before she can see it. Hot air hits her face as she walks through the outer door and the smell of beer and sweat assaults her nose when she hits the inner door. The pounding bass becomes recognizable music when the inner door opens and she glimpses three women dancing on the bar. Brittany takes three steps into the bar before she's met with a wall of people, mostly college-aged men, and has to pause and recalibrate her approach to the bar.

The three women jump down from the bar and the crowd roars as the song ends and another woman climbs up. She's wearing impossibly tight jeans and what Brittany can only describe as a boob hammock. The music starts and the woman on the bar starts singing. Brittany smiles. Her eyes hit the woman's face at the moment she opens her mouth and channels Joan Jett. "I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation." The crowd roars and the noise swallows half of the next line. Santana struts along the bar, sneers, and whips the crowd into a frenzy. By the end of the song Santana has the entire crowd singing along. Brittany finds a spot on the side wall to lean against. When the song ends Santana kicks over a cup and jumps down off the bar.

Brittany pushes her way to the bar only to find Santana all the way at the other end.

"What do you want?" Brittany finds a pretty, but overly made up, blonde screaming at her across the bar.

"I'm looking for Santana," Brittany screams over the din.

"We don't serve mixed drinks. Shots or beer, that's it." The woman says filling three other orders while she waits.

"No, I'm looking for my friend."

"Is there a problem, Bridget?" Another blonde woman, with a square jaw and a sharp expression says glaring at Brittany.

"No, she's looking for Satan, I think."

"Santana. She's a friend of mine. She works here. She just sang..." Brittany looks at the women and then slaps the bar. "I'll have two shots of Cuervo." While the bartender fills her order, Brittany cranes her neck to see down the bar and tries to catch Santana's eye.

Santana laughs and pours shots for three guys who look eager to climb into her boob hammock. Santana's smile changes when she looks down the bar and catches sight of Brittany. Her eyes soften, her mouth relaxes, and her grin takes over her whole face. Brittany tries to press through the bodies crowding the bar but Santana is standing in front of her before she makes any progress.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise you, catch you in your element. You always did know how to put on a show."

Santana grins again. "What more could I want than a job that pays well and allows me so much attention? Can you stay for a while or would you rather meet me back at the loft?"

"Oh I think I'll stick around and see if I can catch the late show," Brittany says throwing back her shots.

"Get back to work, Cheerio."

"Gotta go. Make your way down my end, okay?"

Two hours later Brittany has seen Santana's second and third acts. She's also seen Santana fill her pockets with phone numbers from tourist girls, middle-aged Jersey moms getting wild, and a enough pretty college girls to make Brittany reach for another shot of tequila.

A tall, toned woman steps up to the bar and Santana smiles. Brittany watches closely as Santana gives this girl the smile that used to belong to Brittany. When the woman slips Santana her phone number along with her tip, Santana blushes and nods her head in the direction of an empty chair at the side of the bar.

Santana spends the next forty-five minutes checking with the woman between every drink order. When she hands the woman a whiskey, the woman, who Brittany has decided to call "Butt Face," puts her hand over Santana's as she accepts the drink. Santana looks into Butt Face's eyes and grins. Brittany stands up and pushes people out of the way until she finds herself across from lady with the square jaw.

"Is this your bar?"

"Yeah."

"Can I dance on it?"

"You any good?" She asks standing on her toes to see over the edge of the bar.

"Yes." Brittany sticks her chin out and tilts her head back.

The woman shrugs and looks around at the remaining crowd. "Screw it, it's late. Give it a whirl Vanilla."

Brittany punches a song into the jukebox and hops onto the bar. The music starts and after three seconds the entire room turns to face the bar. "Holy shit," Butt Face says, her jaw dropping.

"Who run the world?" Brittany mouths as she skips down the bar, her shoulders and head moving in seemingly impossibly opposition. She pauses at the center of the bar where she rolls her hips and flings her hair and silences the once unruly crowd. She skips halfway toward Santana, bends her knees and rolls her hips a foot from Santana's face. Santana's face slips from shocked to annoyed to slack jawed appreciation.

When the song ends, Brittany gives Santana a glance over her shoulder, hops off the bar, and disappears into the crowd.

"Who was that?" Butt Face asks Santana their eyes fixed on the door through which, like Alice down a rabbit hole, the blonde just disappeared. Santana wets her lips and walks down the bar until a couple calls out an order she's obligated to fill. She makes change, pockets the tip and struggles to see if Brittany has come back into the bar.

The lights flicker and the boss rings a bell for last call. "You don't have to go home..." she starts and the crowd answers "but you can't stay here."

Santana returns to her end of the bar and starts wiping it down with a rag. "Do you want anything else?" she asks the girl still sitting at the end of the bar.

"Just to know if you're doing anything after you close?"

Santana turns her back to wipe the bar. "I'm just heading home. My friend is in town and I should check on her."

The girl stands up, clutching her bag to her stomach. "Well, maybe another time. After all, I didn't get a chance to show you my moves." Santana smiles and nods.

Bridget walks over and wipes the bar next to Santana. "What did that one want?"

"To show me her moves," Santana says with a laugh.

"Moron. I wouldn't even think of trying to top what blondie did up there. Did you see what she could do with her hips? Can you imagine what she's like in bed?"

Santana grins. "I think I can."

xxxx

The door to the loft grinds as it opens and Santana peeks through the opening, hoping that someone left a light on for her. A dim light comes from her "bedroom" and she walks as quietly across the floor as she can.

"Well you put on quite a show tonight?"

Brittany is sitting in the middle of Santana's bed, wearing Santana's favorite t-shirt and nothing else. "You know I love to dance."

"Britt, I know you love..." Santana stops talking when Brittany looks down at her own lap. "Hey, what happened back there?"

"You were talking to Butt Face all night."

"Butt Face?"

"That gorgeous girl who sat at the end of the bar."

"Why Butt Face?"

Fat tears roll down Brittany's face and drop onto her bare legs. Santana sits next to her, her weight causes the bed to dip and forces the two of them closer together. "Because she was so pretty and you forgot all about me."

Santana wraps Brittany in her arms and pulls her head onto her shoulder. "I could never forget about you." She places a soft kiss on Brittany's wet cheek. She wipes Brittany's face with the palm of her hand. "After that performance, I may never stop thinking about you either."

Brittany snorts. "Sometimes you need a reminder of what you're missing."

"In that case, maybe you can remind me a little more?" Santana pulls her head back and searches Brittany's face. Brittany shoves her over on the bed and smiles.

"Is it coming back to you now?" Brittany says placing kisses across Santana's collar bones.

"Mmm, vaguely."

Brittany kisses just behind Santana's ear and along her jaw line. "Now?"

"Almost."

"Well, maybe you should see a doctor about your memory," Brittany says before threading her fingers through Santana's hair and allowing her lips to hover an inch above Santana's. Santana's breath smells like spearmint gum. "In that case, Dr. Pierce, is there any chance you could see me now? I'm going to need a complete physical."


End file.
